Yet more ramblings...

There used to be so much to discuss. People had things to say. But these days, whenever I call somebody – normally mum, but it could be anybody – the answer to the question 'what have you been doing?' is often met with a nervous laugh followed by the words, 'not much really'. When you're not at the office (as most people haven't been for just over a year) and you're stuck at home, the most you can say is that you have taken a walk around the block or gone shopping. Nobody has travelled anywhere, it's not allowed. Holidays have yet to really kick off and it looks as if we'll all be so-called 'staycations' this year, nice for some, but others will be yearning for their annual foreign holiday.

Bigger breakfasts are the new thing

On Saturday morning, sitting as I was on a table on the green at Westerham, talking to a fellow cyclist who, it turns out, had only riden his bike from Limpsfield, so I'm guessing he rode along the A25, we chatted along the lines of the above: that we'd both been working from home, that we hadn't really done a great deal and so on. As always I mentioned cycling and how it has kept me sane over the past year and then we chatted briefly about haircuts. I explained that I was wearing a bright orange beanie hat because my hair was now so long it was looking, well, unkempt and horrible. I resemble The Toecutter from the very first Mad Max movie, but didn't mention this incase my new temporary companion had no idea of what I was talking about.

Now that non-essential shops are allowed to open there's more of a buzz down on Westerham Green. In fact there's a fair amount of stuff going on; first there's the regular gaggle of bearded old men on their Harleys, chatting away outside Costa Coffee, then there's the cyclists, sitting on the green in their Lycra chatting about nothing in particular and sipping their cappuccinos, and let's not forget those working in the pub (in this case the Grasshopper) who are busy setting up tables for the day. It's all very pleasant, the sun is out and it's perfect for sitting outside with a beer. Occasionally a Harley might roar past or a quad bike or some kind of vintage car and it's nice to sit and watch it all happen. 

Westerham has become my default ride. It's a good distance (roughly 22 miles) and it's not too bad. I've taken to riding along Pilgrims Lane and then turning right at the VeloBarn and heading into town. For some reason I prefer it, don't ask me why. I pass the VeloBarn with no intention of stopping mainly because you have to engage with the track and trace system and that's the last thing I want to do. Why? Because sod's law will dictate that if I've signed up for it there will be a phone call and I'll be required to self-isolate for a fortnight. At Costa in Westerham, as long as you're not using their chairs you don't need to register, which is great.

This past week I've managed to ride something like 68 miles, which is a darn sight better than my paltry 22 miles last week. Sometimes after a day at work, the last thing I want to do is jump on the bike and ride to Westerham. Especially, as it turns out, on a Monday. I'm tired by the end of my working day and I'd much rather do something a little less energetic, like drive to IKEA or Boots and then come back home again and watch television or read. I need to get my act together on reading. Over the past week I haven't looked at a book, which isn't good, so hopefully tonight (tonight being Monday night) I'll get back in the swing of things. Movies are my thing at the moment. Last night I watched an amazing movie entitled Blue Ruin on Netflix and who knows what's in store for me tonight? For some reason I've got a little bored of Prime. I've been writing a story of my own but have reached a point where I can't decide what I want to happen, although one idea has stuck with me over the past 12 hours and I'll consider it in a little more depth when I'm next on one of my walks around the block.

My cycling week started yesterday (Sunday) with another ride to Westerham. Andy texted me to ask if I was getting bored with riding to Westerham and to be honest, I'm not. I think what I probably meant was I didn't want to revert to Tatsfield village, which is a shorter distance, as my thing now is to get the miles under my belt, so rather than ride, say 10 miles or 15 miles, if I get 22 miles under my belt it means less 'rides' per week to achieve my level of acceptability, in mileage terms, which is 60 miles at the low end and between 80 and 90 miles at the top end of the scale. I suppose what I'm saying is I'd rather cycle to Westerham three times a week than cycle 10 miles every day of the week. Perhaps it's a form of laziness? But then the problem with Westerham is that sometimes, like today, the very thought of riding all that way and back gives me a nagging headache. Perhaps not a headache, but it certainly brings on a level of fatigue that will stop me doing anything. I've already decided not to ride today and instead go to IKEA, which I still haven't done as we're waiting for people to turn up and do things in the house, like measure up a room for carpets. Once they've been then we'll probably jump in the car and head for the Swedish flat pack furniture showroom. We're not buying anything, just taking something back.

I should really be writing this in my back garden, but I reckon it's colder than it looks out there and I'd have to put on a woolly jumper in order to remain comfortable.

Time flying past is something that bothers me...

Photo courtesy of Pixabay.com

Time flying past is something that bothers me. Google Photos annoys me in this respect as they keep coming up with summaries of my life, like what I was doing in 2014, which I still think of as 'not that long ago' but it's seven years ago and when I see the images I realise that I've aged and so have those photographed with me, all a little frightening one way of the other.

By not going riding today I am in a sense making a rod for my own back. Five miles done today are five miles I wouldn't have to do tomorrow, but now I guess you could say I'm down five, meaning that, to catch up, I'll have to ride 10 miles tomorrow. And this is how fretful life becomes. I used to be like this with swimming and on some occasions would be faced with having to swim a mile in order to make up for swims I postponed. In the end I'd have to admit to myself that I slacked badly and that was that. 

Something else that I might have touched on before is that old habits are creeping back, like eating too much bread. Pre-lockdown I limited myself to three slices a day but now it's much more. Today, for example, I had three slices of bread for breakfast: one with my boiled egg and two for bread and marmalade. Then I had a cheese sandwich for lunch, bringing the total to six slices and, as I write this, I've just made myself some more bread and marmalade, so that's eight slices. Marmalade is also back on the agenda and has to stop. I've been indulging myself with 'big breakfasts' – a bowl of Alpen with fresh fruit, an orange cut into manageable chunks, two slices of bread and marmalade, a boiled egg with fingers and, of course, a cup of tea. Pre-lockdown it was little more than a bowl of cereal or porridge and a cup of tea. This has to stop, but not until that jar of marmalade is finished as there's nothing better than stem ginger marmalade from Waitrose. It's another reason why cycling is important and must be kept up.

A few thoughts on the past week...

I've slowed down on writing for this blog and put it down to writing 'other stuff'. With lockdown it's fair to say that nothing much has happened. I've been working from home for most of the day, I throw in a walk at lunch time and then after work, which is around 1630hrs, I might go for a ride on the bike. The week before last I managed 81 miles. This past week just 22 miles, but that was deliberate. For some reason I was tired and thought I'd give it a miss, which I did. I should have gone out on Saturday, to Westerham, but instead I slobbed around and didn't ride again until Sunday when I met Andy in the Northern Kent market town. Our habits are changing. For a start, we only meet once a week, on a Sunday, but we also meet at our destination rather than at Warlingham Green and now there's a new habit: not bringing tea along on the ride. For the past God knows how long I've been humping a huge Stanley flask of hot water all the way to wherever we're going, but over the past few weeks that flask is now staying in the house. Instead, a large English breakfast tea and an almond croissant and a cappuccino and almond croissant for Andy.

But nothing else has changed. Our conversations are still in good shape. In the past fortnight we've discussed Harley Davidson motorcycles, mainly because a whole bunch of them turn up and park outside the Costa. Andy doesn't like them. I do like them. Andy says they're old man's bikes. They are. Harley riders invariably have grey hair and beards or no hair and beards and they all wear the uniform, trying to look like hard men and that's where the problem arises. They're not in America and that, of course, is the issue. You have to be in America to ride a Harley in my opinion. Over here they look out of place. Andy's other gripe is that technologically they're pretty much old hat and they're heavy and, he says, the engine and gear box are separate. Andy says they've missed a trick and that their demographic is old blokes, they're not appealing to younger riders. Andy says he'd get a Royal Enfield if he did buy a bike again. Me? I like the Harley, I'm afraid. I'd probably spend more time polishing it than riding it, but I'd have an 883 Hugger with buckhorn bars. I like 'the traditional Harley rumble' and that's really it: I want to make a lot of noise on a highly polished motorcycle.

Not quite finished, I still had a lot of raking to do and the edges

Last Sunday we discussed something a little more boring: social media, well, Linkedin specifically and who knows what we'll be discussing this coming Sunday, which is still a way off (I'm writing this on Tuesday 13 April). Yesterday I went back to the office for the day, working from 0800hrs to 1700hrs with a half hour lunch break. Today I'm back home again and will be for the next fortnight and then I return to the office for a day and things will go on like that until the lockdown eases completely. It was good to be back in the office and I managed to get a fair bit of work done, which was good and when I left I felt good, which was something.

I'm still watching movies on Prime every night, sometimes two movies a night. It's an escapism thing. I'm trying to escape the monotony of everything, which is hard. I'm largely watching indie movies, American indie movies, but I've also watched a few mainstream movies too, like The Intern with Robert De Niro and Anne Hathaway and Bucket List with Jack Nicholson and Morgan Freeman. It all amounts to the same thing: escapism. I sit there with my camomile tea and then hit the sack some time between 2300hrs and 2330hrs.

Our blossom tree is in bloom...

Weatherwise, things are improving. We're now operating on British Summer Time, there are blossoms on the trees and the weather is warming up, although, having said that, as I drove to work yesterday (12 April 2021) there were blizzard conditions. It snowed hard for most of the morning and stopped by lunch time. On Sunday (11 April) I managed to mow my rear lawn and managed to get it all done before the snow hit, which was good going. It's trimmed and so are 'the edges' and it's looking good. Mowing the lawn will be a major part of my life now until October. I don't mind doing it if the weather's pleasant, but we'll need a new mower one of these days.

And hopefully cycling will also start to pick up a little. The bike is fine and I've been enjoying the rides both with Andy on Sundays and alone midweek. The VeloBarn has reopened but apparently you have to log on with the test and trace app and all that mularkey so I'm avoiding it and sticking with Costa or the Tudor Rose in Westerham, the latter open for takeaways on a Saturday morning.

Not much else to report at the moment.